


weapons

by truth_seeker_1789



Series: Suptober 2K19 [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Being Lost, Canon Compliant, Castiel Gets a Hug (Supernatural), Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Depowered Castiel (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Established Relationship, Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Supernatural (TV) Spoilers, Suptober (Supernatural), Suptober 2019 (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 04:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21191822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_seeker_1789/pseuds/truth_seeker_1789
Summary: after the loss of his son, his faith, and the remnants of a tattered friendship, castiel seeks out sanctuary with the only person he knows he can still truly call on.





	weapons

*

Azure irises shrouded in anguish were the first detail you noted upon opening the door. The trill of joy you had upon confirmation of your visitor was soon silenced upon studying stooped shoulders, entire essence burdened by melancholy.

All thought left you, all potential greetings and welcoming gestures cast aside in favour of the desire to step forward, encircling your arms around the form of the subdued Seraph, firmly embracing him with every particle of fierce fondness within you.

He remained stagnant for several moments, but haltingly began to return the embrace, movements weighed down as if each limb were leaded. With a small shift, however, he was clinging to you, steadfastly securing his entire essence around you, latching onto you with a strength that was nearly intolerable. He moulded his form to your own, collapsing into you with the full weight of eternity, steadying himself in the mere presence of you.

You held fast, praying that whatever the ailment, whatever the ache, he could find healing. You refrained from giving utterance to any of the multitudes of queries his arrival had summoned, forcing yourself to silence all

You didn't know how long you remained in that position: celestial and humane interwoven in futile search of comfort. Gradually, he pulled away, drawing away from you with clear intent to leave.

You refused to allow him to depart in such a state, however, fingers brushing over frore skin as you gently held fast to his wrist, wishing to entwine your digits with his own. You could not tolerate the thought that you could allow him to slip away, shouldering the brunt of his burdens in self-imposed solitude.

"Castiel?"

His name from your lips proved a persuasive summons, cobalt orifices cast in scarlet and shadow drawn back to you. The angel appeared to find purchase in your expression, sorrow and shame soon revealed in clouded depths.

The sight was enough to elicit overwhelming heartache within you, voice near silent as you pressed for answers.

"What happened?"

Thus, his story began tumbling out, tattered tragedies lamenting his failures, his perceived weaknesses, his growing fragility.

Words from wannabe gods, arrogant Authors, and formerly stringently steadfast friends proved to be the only weapons that could truly bring irreparable damage to his glorious graciousness, a poison so potent you were unsure if the hollow hole festering in his spirit could ever truly be mended.

  
His explanations summoned a roiling mass of conflicting sensibilities within you, some part of you longing to seek out the so-called Righteous, demand justifications for his actions. Another longed for the strength to summon the allegedly Almighty, force confessions from the estranged Father who would dare to cause such agonizing suffering for His most faithful son. Yet still another part, perhaps the most virtuous of all, longed to offer shelter to the Seraph, minuscule as it may be.

In all of your time together- years for you, a breath for him- you had never seen him so distraught, so hopeless, so broken, so-

Lost.

You guided him inside, presenting what little sanctuary you could provide. Accepting your hospitality, he soon situated himself before your sofa, carob coat cascading to the floor, formerly pristine tan tarnished through years of turmoil.

In the entire breadth of your friendship, you had never seen him so near to surrender, to defeat.

Once more, overwhelming tenderness filled you, heart shattering at the angel's crumpled visage.

You sought out a seat beside him, once again offering your form as some semblance of shelter. He hesitated briefly before, as expected, he consented to once again collapse into you.

You were no orator; there were no assurances you could muster, no schemes you could conceive, though you prayed for the knowledge that you could offer to him that could restore any trace of his former sanguinity.

Until such a time, you contented yourself with humming near-forgotten lullabies and carding your fingers through raven tresses, serving as a safe harbour for the wayward seraph temporarily resting his broken wings.

*

**Author's Note:**

> While I can understand Dean's dismissal, I cannot currently find it within me to forgive him for the horrendous treatment he has been giving Castiel since almost the beginning of Season 14.
> 
> While I cheered on my sweet Seraph finally seeking his own path away from toxicity, I couldn't help but wish I could offer him the support he so desperately needs right now.
> 
> This was birthed of that.
> 
> And to think- Originally I was going to write about paintball.
> 
> Funny how Fate shapes our destinies, innit?


End file.
